A Look Back
by 217
Summary: Fifteen years have passed since All Out War. The former Savior leader has no time to think about anything but his life as he runs for it. Negan one-shot.


Negan ran with everything he had. At times, he swore feet came right up on the backs of his boots, hands reaching for the fabric of his shirt to drag him to the earth. "Not gonna get me," he taunted at the figure, picking up the pace again. It wasn't as much of a threat as much as a reminder for him. Don't show your age. Man the fuck up. After everything he'd been through, he couldn't stop now.

The man was approaching fifty nine and feeling every bit of it. Hell, even his eyesight had begun to worsen as the limb of this tree left impressions against his brow because he didn't see it until it was too late.

A grin that wasn't so vibrant, but no longer used to bring fear to so many people.

Muscles and joints that ached even before he rubbed the sleep from his worn eyes every morning.

And the memories… the atrocious memories he thought would eat him alive before the undead. Most people don't know what it's like to be truly hated. Negan did, and he knew it well. He could take it though, he had thick skin.

He remembered the time Rick Grimes told him the worst thing he had done was survive when so many people hadn't. Negan couldn't have agreed more, until, one day, everything changed.

"Roar, roar!"

"Shit." A dead end, there was nowhere to go. In the brief few seconds he had, Negan thought of her. _Lucille_. Not in her frail state like he'd usually recollect. He thought of how her face lit up at the sight of him on their wedding day. All that ran through his mind that day was getting that dress off her. Lucille didn't share that same thought. She couldn't believe how lucky she was that he had picked her. Her cheeks reddened at him in that suit, tight in all the right spots. She knew he would make a name for himself, and she was just lucky enough to be able to share that name.

Boy, was she fucking wrong.

He spent a lot of sleepless nights over the things that he had done. The heinous things that were associated with his name. Leaving her to rot was always his biggest one. Stealing from other communities. Murdering that kid in front of his family. Threats. More murder. More disgrace.

Negan told himself that is what was needed in order for him to survive. He convinced himself it was the right thing to do.

Wrong. So motherfucking wrong.

Now, he could see it all. Every. Single. Mistake. And, fuck, were there a lot. His most recent one was being backed into this corner ready to be devoured.

"Roar, roar!"

No, wait. There was a break, and he took it. A chance to get away, and he did. "Sucker! Oh, fuck!" His legs gave first as he swayed, then his balance betrayed him. Negan slid across the earth before coming to a stop. He flipped over, his fate certain.

"Roar!"

He reached his arms out, laughing as he caught the child flying towards him.

"I got you, daddy."

"Fucking took you long enough, goddamn." Negan sat up from the unkempt grass as his four year old daughter took her place upon his lap. She was his chance to do right, and he would. She didn't judge him based on the things he had done. She didn't care that his clothing didn't fit like it once did, especially in his arms. To her, he was the strongest person in the world. Invincible. Perfect. Adored. She was his reason to live. To feel alive again when so many things had failed. This little girl and the woman, by chance, that gave him this extraordinary gift.

She held up a clear bag that contained snacks, offering him one.

"I better not, they give me the shits." Another added bonus of getting older.

"Everything makes you poop," she giggled.

Wasn't that the honest to fuck's truth? The list of what in the goddamn fuck would give him trouble started to grow alarmingly. Like just what in the hell was all over his hands for one. Liver spots? Another thing that she didn't mind. She would play connect the dots while she hummed a tune from her record player.

Negan's life was quite different from the brutal Savior leader all those years ago. He was thankful those days were behind him. Thankful he only took care of two people and himself. Maybe he wasn't deserving of this second chance, but he wasn't going to argue, and he sure wouldn't mess it up this time. He'd teach his daughter to learn from the mistakes he made. It'd be the only time he was thankful to make them.

Life was pretty different than it was fifteen years ago, that's for sure. He used to wait for death in that prison cell, but as this little one sat in his lap, he was grateful it never came. All the times he'd question why he was alive finally made sense. Her. "What did you and your mother do today?"

"Think of ways to annoy you."

That didn't surprise him, and he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
